Resurgence
by android kitty
Summary: The Chantry made her mind silent, pinned her mind to the bottom of a lake so no one could hear her screaming - and the raw fade tore her chains away. (a formerly tranquil!inquisitor fic. with extra cullen)


**A/N:** i turned 21. in celebration of being able to legally drink, i am replaying dai for the 16th time. dreaming of da4 being released. please bioware im desperate.

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The first thing Gwyn felt was pain - crackling in her left palm, searing its way through the veins of her arms and setting her brain alight. There was a dull roar in the back of her ears, as if someone was screaming under layers of resin and cotton down, the sound rumbling through her and dancing behind the burning pits of her eyes. She thrashed, fingers scrabbling for purpose, but pinpoints of crushing weight grasped her limbs and crushed them to the cold ground, and she trembled until her blurry vision faded and she slipped away. It seemed a cruel cycle, these bouts of fiery agony and the welcome silence of sleep, as she woke and slept and woke and slept in her room of freezing stone.

When she woke for the last time, her eyes darted around, attempting to make sense of her surroundings. She was kneeling on icy stone, her wrists weighted down by rusted iron shackles and her head heavy with fatigue. A woman was talking, somewhere, her voice rough and disdainfully accusative, but her words slurred together into an unintelligible stream, drowned away by the sense of confusion-fear-pain that filled Gwyn. It was like waking from an unbearably long sleep, startled into consciousness by the force of a crushing river of melted snow.

"What?" she said, tilting her head up to face the woman - the two women in front of her. They were clad in armor, tall and imposing, their eyes stony and faces drawn. The one closest to her, with short, dark hair and a scar bisecting her face, frowned, and started again.

"What are you?" she said, her palm resting atop the blade sheathed at her belt. "You bear the mark, but you have magic - it has been flaring for days, and you stepped out of the physical fade when we found you. Who sent you? Why did you create the breach?"

"Where am I?" Gwyn asked, digging her nails into her trembling palms, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Who are you?" The woman scowled, shaking her head dismissively.

"You're not the one asking questions here - what do you remember?" Gwyn closed her eyes, searching her memory.

"I… was running," she said hesitantly. "I remember… a woman? She reached out to me, and then…." At this, the burrowing pain settled in her palm flared in a flash of crackling green energy, and she cried out, spine bending as she rode out the wave of discomfort. The fear was still running through her veins, overwhelming her senses and drowning out everything else. She noted, distantly, that she was crying - a steady stream of liquid dripping down her face, turning icy in the frigid air.

"A woman?" the other woman queried, her voice soft and lightly accented. _Orlesian_, Gwyn's fragmented memories supplied, though she didn't know how that was supposed to help her. "Cassandra, could it have been the Divine?" The other woman - Cassandra - frowned.

"We found her in the center of the temple - it could have been. But whoever it was doesn't matter - the elf says that she may be the only way we have of closing the breach." Cassandra shook her head again.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift." Leliana nodded in assent, striding out of the dungeon, and Cassandra leaned down and unclasped the chains binding Gwyn to the ground.

"...What happened?" Gwyn asked, standing up shakily.

"It will be easier to show you," Cassandra murmured, and pushed her up the rough, rock-hewn stairs.

As Gwyn stepped outside, her eyes widened. The wind was bitingly cold, pelting her skin with flurries of snowflakes, and the world was cast in a sickly, green-tinged glow. There was a hole in the sky, a swirling vortex of fade energy, and though Gwyn couldn't remember much - who she was, why she was here - she knew that there was something very, very wrong with the sight.

"We call it the Breach," Cassandra said. "A massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave." Gwyn frowned.

"The Conclave?" Cassandra cast her a sharp look, eyes searching.

"You truly remember nothing?" she said, skeptical, and Gwyn shrugged. The Breach thundered, and the energy in Gwyn's hand flared once again, bringing the same burning pain she was becoming accustomed to.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is slowly killing you," Cassandra told her, helping her up from the snow. "It could grow to swallow the whole world. The mark on your hand may be the only way of stopping this, but we don't have much time." She directed her to walk forward, leading her through a shabby town filled with impromptu tents. The people lining the pathways stopped to stare at Gwyn, their eyes filled with fear and disgust, and she flinched back from their regard, drawing into herself.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace," Cassandra told her. Gwyn sighed - the Conclave again. If only she knew what it had been, then maybe she would know why she was here - the last thing she remembered was the crackle of a roaring fire, the dusty tomes of the circle tower and the feeling of warm, early-autumn sunlight.

"Open the gate - we are heading into the valley," Cassandra called out, leading her through the gates of Haven and into the icy mountain paths below. They made their way to a bridge, teeming with fully armored soldiers, when a jet of light streaked from the Breach and impacted with the ground, crumbling the bridge and throwing them to the ground below. As Gwyn struggled to her feet, her bones aching from the impact, demons streamed from the ground.

"Stay behind me!" Cassandra shouted, drawing her sword, and Gwyn scrabbled backwards, her pulse racing. As she glanced back towards Cassandra, however, she saw one of the demons bearing down on her, having slipped past the woman's guard. She grabbed the staff resting against the chest next to her, unthinking, and threw out a bolt of flame, and another, relaxing into the Circle-standard form she felt like she hadn't used in ages. It was enough to fell the demon, fortunately, and she leaned on the staff in relief as Cassandra pulled her sword out of the last demon.

"Drop your weapon - now," she said, raising her sword, and Gwyn immediately dropped it, the staff clattering to the ice below. Cassandra sighed at this.

"No - I cannot protect you. I should remember that you came willingly." Gwyn picked up the staff again, her fingers curling around its comforting heft, and made to follow Cassandra when the woman turned around again.

"But it is true, then - you have magic," she said, questioningly, and Gwyn frowned.

"Of course I have magic - I was raised in a Circle." Cassandra gestured to her forehead at that, mouth drawn in a grim line.

"You bear the mark of a tranquil," she told her, and Gwyn's hands flew up, searching. Cassandra's words were true - the skin there was raised, scarred from branding, and even against her palms, she knew that it was the same sunburst that had marred the forehead of the emotionless woman who had worked in the storeroom in her circle.

A sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Her fuzzy memory - the constant feeling of too-much-too-,much-too-much, how she felt ancient and young at the same time -

_What happened to me?_ she asked herself, but she was afraid she already knew.


End file.
